


Thrones of Pleasure

by Ineffability_In_Eden (Honestmabe)



Category: Good Omens (Radio), Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anal Sex, Collars, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Sex Club, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-13 02:54:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29146278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Honestmabe/pseuds/Ineffability_In_Eden
Summary: “I didn’t come here to be flogged, darling,” Aziraphale huffed.“Well, your request was vague. ‘I want to be yours, yours in front of everyone. I want them to see how you touch me, how you make me feel,’” Crowley quoted, the smirk still in place. “So how do you want them to see me touch you?”
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 62
Collections: Love and Lust Through the Ages Volume II





	Thrones of Pleasure

**Author's Note:**

> My piece for Love and Lust Through the Ages! I hope everyone enjoys <3

Aziraphale’s stomach fluttered with nerves, his corporation betraying his emotions, as Crowley procured a membership card from his wallet. Neither of them had ever attended the club, nor made plans for attending such a club, until earlier that evening when, after copious amounts of alcohol, Aziraphale said far too much. Crowley had just assumed he’d have a membership card and there it was, in his wallet.

A loud moan was heard from inside and Aziraphale’s hand nervously clenched around his tartan bag, the bag that carried several items Crowley had miracled up for their enjoyment. Crowley’s hand covered his suddenly and Aziraphale looked up to lock eyes with Crowley. “Angel, if you don’t want to do this, we can leave.”

“I do,” Aziraphale insisted, blushing. “I’m just a bit nervous is all. Perhaps I should’ve changed my corporation to something a bit prettier-”

“Not possible,” Crowley interrupted, smiling affectionately and squeezing his hand, ignoring the poor dear behind the counter that was attempting to return Crowley’s membership card. With a sigh, the demon turned and accepted his card before the two of them were ushered in.

The music was low and sensual, as was the lighting. There was a bar with quite a few people gathered around, standing too close to be anything but intimate and yet not quite touching. The touching, that was saved for the private rooms.

“What did you have in mind, angel?” Crowley asked him as they wove their way to the bar. “Gloryhole?”   
  
“Mm, no,” Aziraphale answered, frowning. 

“I’m fairly certain there’s a dungeon downstairs in this one, whips, chains, and everything,” Crowley pressed, smirking.

Aziraphale gave him a deadpan look before turning his attention to the bartender and ordering a glass of wine. If the bartender was confused by his vastly outdated apparel and looks-could-kill partner, he didn’t comment.

“I didn’t come here to be flogged, darling,” Aziraphale huffed.

“Well, your request was vague. ‘I want to be yours, yours in front of everyone. I want them to see how you touch me, how you make me feel,’” Crowley quoted, the smirk still in place. “So how do you want them to see me touch you?”   


“I don’t know,” Aziraphale groaned, exasperated. “Perhaps this was a bad idea.”

“Alright, how about we look around and if anything catches your fancy we can do that and if we find nothing, we leave?” Crowley asked, considerate as ever.

“Oh- Oh, well I don’t want you to have driven all this way for nothing,” Aziraphale told him sheepishly.

“With my driving?” Crowley asked with a small laugh, standing up from the bar when he noticed Aziraphale finished his glass of wine, “It was hardly even a trip.”

Aziraphale suddenly had an idea and his face colored as he stopped walking. “I-I know what I want to do now.”

“Oh?” Crowley prompted.

“That terrible chair of yours, the one you keep at your desk. I always thought about sitting in your lap…” Aziraphale trailed off, frowning. “Oh, but that’s silly. Your chair isn’t here.”   
  
Crowley eyed him for a long moment before snapping. “Now it is. Follow me.”

The room Crowley led them to was dark and empty save for the black satin couch that wrapped around the walls of the room and the familiar throne-like chair sitting in the center of the room, under somewhat of a spotlight.

“It’s funny, this room reminds me of your flat in Mayfaire,” Aziraphale observed, shivering as Crowley walked up behind him and began nibbling at his neck.

“I would imagine that’s because I just made this room. Does it help you? For it to look familiar?” Crowley asked gently, sliding a wandering hand down his side.

“Yes, yes it does,” Aziraphale gasped out. 

“Good,” Crowley murmured, his hand moving to Aziraphale’s front to tug at his bowtie. “How about you let me help you out of those clothes so we can get started?”

“There isn’t anyone here,” Aziraphale reminded him.

“It doesn’t matter,” Crowley told him, walking round to begin unbuttoning Aziraphale’s shirt. “They’ll come when they hear all the pretty noises you make when under the throes of pleasure. How wonderful an occasion for all these humans, to hear a real angel sing.”

Aziraphale’s blush deepened and spread to his chest as Crowley pushed his shirt and coat off his shoulders. “Crowley? I have something else I want.”

“Yes, anything,” Crowley responded easily.

“I think I would be less nervous if I didn’t see anyone,” Aziraphale hinted. 

“Blindfold?” Crowley clarified, smirking at Aziraphale’s nod. “Alright, can I suggest things I want?”

“Of course, darling,” Aziraphale told him, smiling. His smile dropped seconds later as Crowley began wrapping his silver scarf around his wrists. “Crowley?”   
  
“Relax, angel,” Crowley reminded him gently. “Is this alright?”   


“Yes, yes it is,” Aziraphale told him softly. “I trust you.”

Crowley cupped his cheek gently before giving him a quick kiss, pulling away to use Aziraphale’s tartan bowtie as a makeshift blindfold.

Aziraphale shivered in the cool room as he listened to Crowley searching through the bag they brought. He jumped when he felt cool hands on his neck but relaxed when Crowley made a soft, soothing noise. “It’s alright, it’s just your collar.”

“You brought that silly thing,” Aziraphale laughed, despite himself. 

“Well, I took my opportunity while you took off that damned bowtie for once,” Crowley laughed as well.

Aziraphale felt familiar hands on his and allowed himself to be gently tugged forward, waiting patiently for Crowley to position him on his lap in the chair. Aziraphale gasped as his bound hands were hooked over Crowley’s head, pulling the two of them closer. 

“Is this comfortable?” Crowley asked him quietly, running a comforting hand down the back of Aziraphale’s naked thigh. Aziraphale shivered at both the gesture and the feeling of Crowley’s clothing against his naked skin. 

“Yes, darling, I am. I’m with you,” he responded, his voice hitched and breathless as he felt a lubed finger circle his rim before pushing in. 

In Rome, Aziraphale had run into Crowley and asked him to dinner. Oysters, in fact. The aphrodisiacs and wine gave way to other things and Aziraphale had found himself inviting Crowley to the bathhouse. Their little jaunt there was quick, hurried, desperate. They found an alcove, mostly hidden from others as they lost themselves in a frenzied passion.

Now, Crowley was stroking inside of him in a lazy and unhurried manner while nibbling at his neck, knowing the places that would make the angel gasp and moan. This time, he was putting on a show.

“Is anyone-Ah! Here yet?” he gasped out, burying his face in Crowley’s collarbone as the demon slipped another finger inside him.   
  
“Yes,” Crowley answered, the mirth clear in his voice. “I bet they’re all jealous of me. They don’t have such lovely angels like you on their lap.”

“Flatterer,” Aziraphale huffed, though he was smiling. 

“It’s the truth,” Crowley told him, adding a third finger. Aziraphale lifted up on his thighs and moaned, high pitched and embarrassing as Crowley dug his fingers into his prostate. “I don’t waste words on empty flattery.”

“Crowley! Please,” he begged, his face heating up.

“I’m going to,” Crowley assured him. “But I want you to repeat what you said earlier.”

“What I said?” Aziraphale asked, already knowing what his husband had meant.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley said, his voice taking on a warning tone.

“I want to be yours, yours in front of everyone. I want them to see how you touch me, how you make me feel,” Aziraphale breathed out, moaning at the end when Crowley pushed roughly against his prostate. “I want you to make love to me, right here where everyone can see how much I want you. That I chose you above all else. Please fuck me-”

Crowley cut him off with a kiss as he pulled his fingers out and slicked up his cock. He bit Aziraphale’s lip gently as he pulled back. “All you had to do was ask, my angel.”

Aziraphale felt the head of Crowley’s cock and buried his head against Crowley’s shoulder as he sat down on it, moaning loudly as Crowley bottomed out inside him. “Do- Do I feel good?”   
  
“You always feel perfect,” Crowley told him, gripping onto Azirpahale’s hips and beginning to roll his own hips upwards in a sensuous motion, his cock buried impossibly deep inside of the angel.

The rocking quickly became rougher and faster. Crowley was going at a vicious pace, his grunts of exertion mingled with Aziraphale’s moans that were steadily increasing in pitch filled the room, echoing off the walls.

Aziraphale felt it then, lust. He’d always been acutely aware of the emotions of the humans around him and right now he could practically taste their lust. For him. For Crowley. Their want to join with them, though Crowley was far too possessive to allow that. 

Crowley suddenly gripped the back of Aziraphale’s makeshift blindfold and wrenched him back until he was nearly horizontal, his arms straining from where they were still bound and looped around Crowley’s neck. “They can see you angel, so let them watch you come on my cock. You’re mine.”

Aziraphale knew better than to disobey the demon, especially the original tempter, who was quite good at creative punishments. Luckily, he could hardly disobey when his husband knew the perfect angle, the perfect speed, the perfect depth, all the ways to make Aziraphale reach his climax.

Aziraphale’s vision whited out for a moment before he felt his own come spurt on his chest, his own shout feeling foreign to his ears. Aziraphale panted in the aftershocks, frowning when he didn’t feel that familiar spread of warmth inside him. “Darling?”   


“Stay on my cock angel,” Crowley told him calmly, though his own voice was a bit breathless. “You want everyone to know you’re mine, right?”   
  
“Yes, of course,” Aziraphale panted out, his voice hitching from overstimulation.

Crowley began moving again, this time gentle. “You’re mine.”   


“Darling?”   
  
“Yes?” 

“I love you,” he murmured, smiling softly.

He didn’t see Crowley’s smile but he can hear it in his voice as he replied, “and I, you.”


End file.
